


M1n4_n07_f0un4.pdf

by axton_writes



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Depression, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mr. Robot - Freeform, Other, Paranoia, Smut, five/nine attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 19:12:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axton_writes/pseuds/axton_writes
Summary: Hello, friend. We haven't talked in a while. Maybe it's time to get caught up. We have so much to talk about.Shh.Wait.It's not safe here.He's listening.~It's been three years since he found the fsociety program in the server. The prompt deletion and save of E Corp after the DDoS attack should have been a good thing for Elliot, a moral obligation even due to the line of work he's in, but he can't shake why he feels he made a mistake.Lapses in his memory, the ever growing loneliness and anger at society, and the morphine habit became his routine, a way to dull the pain of society. Here one day, gone the next, he didn't think much of it until the old drunk on the subway finally caught his attention and changed the way he saw his life.~Based loosely around Mr. Robot with original content, what would have happened that day if Elliot had deleted the fsociety00.dat file and the events that had followed.





	M1n4_n07_f0un4.pdf

Hello, friend. We haven't talked in a while. Maybe it's time to get caught up. We have so much to talk about. 

Shh. 

Wait. 

It's not safe here. 

He's listening. 

You remember him, right? 

Mr. Robot? 

Fuck. 

It’s been so long since I’ve talked to you. Three years, two months, and eighteen hours. 

Three years. 

Two months. 

Eighteen, wait, nineteen hours. 

And I’m talking to you again. 

“Will you stop?! You’re gonna go crazy again.” 

He’s here. 

“Seriously? I can hear you two and you’re driving me nuts.” 

“Then why don’t you leave?” I quickly respond, knowing full well he won’t leave. 

He’s been here for three years, two months, and nineteen hours. He obsesses about work, though I can’t be mad at him. I deleted his work in the Evil Corp server room. I heard him scream for hours about taking them down after I had removed the dat file. Begged me not to, even, said it needed to be done. But I had a job to do, and I did it. 

Darlene is the only one who knows about what Mr. Robot tried to do, I couldn’t trust any of Mr. Robot’s group after his outburst. FSociety, as he calls it, was going to take down Evil Corp by corrupting all of their data, erasing all of the debt in the United States simultaneously. Stage two would’ve been worse, according to Mr. Robot. Consolidating paper files of the data in one building, installing malware to offset the temperature inside of the battery room, and sparking a fire, leveling the entire building and people inside it. 

He had some truly messed up plans in mind, and the right equipment and people to pull it off. 

That’s not even the worst part. 

Mr. Robot is me. I am Mr. Robot. 

And yet, I’m nothing like him. 

I’m just Elliot Alderson. Employee number ER28-0652 at AllSafe Cybersecurity, one of the best online security companies in New York. I’m just as normal as everyone else. 

“Bullshit.” 

I sit up on my bed, looking around the room only to find Mr. Robot sitting at my computer, reading through a magazine. 

He’s always at my computer, trying to remind me of the work he wants me to do, or reminding me of the dat file I deleted from Evil Corp’s server. FSociety’s leader, always here to try to make me work. 

“Because we have work to do, Elliot. We have a revolution to start. You need to stop putting up this front. I know you want to take down Evil Corp as much as I do.” 

I get up to walk to the bathroom, and he follows me in. 

“Gonna watch me piss?” 

He grabs me by the shoulders, spinning me around to face him. He’s got the concerned look on his face again, his eyes searching for any sign of vulnerability on my face. I know better than to give him what he’s looking for, he’ll turn it against me. 

I look down, and he finally lets me go. 

“Elliot, son, you have to listen to me.” 

“I don’t have to listen to you.” 

I turn around and slam the door behind me, leaning back and breathing a sigh of relief. 

A moment of peace is all I can normally ask for, since Mr. Robot likes to breathe down my neck about work. 

Shit. 

Work. 

I’m gonna be late. 

Too late to take a shower. 

Three quick knocks made me jump, and I sit up from the door. 

“Elliot, we gotta talk.” 

“Leave me alone, I gotta get to work before Gideon fires my ass.” 

I turn the tap on, waiting for the water to warm up before running a wash cloth under the water. I haven’t taken a shower in a few days, I know I'm starting to feel like shit, but Mr. Robot distracts me from anything I need to do. Always with his talks about needing to work on something I got rid of. 

Wash my face, run a hand through my hair, and pick up my badge, and the same work routine begins. 

Leave the house by 7:20 a.m., walk the two blocks to the subway station, get on the number six towards the bridge, get off and walk to the other platform to get on the F to Coney Island, get off on the East Broadway stop, and walk another block to the second of third skyscrapers, where I meet Angela. Scan our badges, up to the eighth floor. 

Allsafe Cybersecurity Company, founded by Gideon Goddard and built by people who have bachelors in computer science, maybe a few people who are self-taught coders, and I’m the only hacker that works there. 

Angela Moss, my only friend other than Mr. Robot, referred me for the job after an incident I had at a previous job. 

A quiet ride to the eighth floor, we both get off and scan our badges to go in. 

The room is already buzzing with people answering calls for security concerns, three new interns walk around the room with Ollie leading them, someone is sitting at my desk, an older intern is handing out coffee, and Gideon spots us first. He has Lloyd walking beside him with his iPad. 

“Angela, Elliot, great! You’re here. Listen, we have a lot of things to catch up on. Firstly...” 

Wait. 

Did you see? 

Someone is sitting in my desk. 

At my computer. 

Angela’s already taking notes for me as I walk towards this person, narrowly missing an intern and spilling his coffee. I utter a curt ‘sorry’, but the apology goes unnoticed. 

Someone is at my computer. 

I stop at the edge of my desk. 

He doesn’t seem to notice me at first, earbuds blasting with some techno music that I’ve never heard before. He’s processing a new type of antivirus, trying to code a type of honeypot for commercial and retail use. It’s a great piece of work, and it looks like it’s close to being done. 

The screen goes black, and he turns to face me. 

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” 

I look down to see a pair of striking green eyes looking up at me, and at first, I’m speechless. 

There’s something to him that unnerves me, mostly the fact that someone I don’t know is sitting at my desk, working on an impossibly clean program, but his face is soft and his eyes give of an incredibly worried look. I can’t tell if he’s reading me or not, but from the way he slumps back in my chair, wrinkling the white dress shirt he’s wearing, he seems content to sitting in silence. 

“I-I'm sorry. I’m Elliot. Alderson. You’re sitting at my desk.” 

Why do I sound nervous? 

“Oh! Yeah, sorry. My name’s Jackson Rivera. You can call me Jack. Gideon said you were going to be training me? I’m one of the new team members for the Evil Corp security team.” 

Gideon. Of course. Gideon had mentioned in a conference last week that we were going to have more people come in for Evil Corp. 

“That program you were working on, that for Evil Corp?” 

Jack looked down and bit his lip. He’s covering up something. 

“It’s a personal project for now, but I’d like for it to become something for Evil Corp.” 

I nod and Angela stops behind me. 

“We have a conference in ten, bring your notes from the DDoS attack.” 

“Are we seriously going over that again?” 

“Just bring it.” 

She looks down to Jackson, who has an eyebrow raised. 

“Bring the new guy in, too. He needs to be briefed.” 

She turns around and walks away, leaving me with Jack. 

“Bring your personal project with you.” 

He turns back to the computer and ejects the hard drive from my tower, staring at the black plastic between his fingers. 

“Isn’t this a little early?” 

“No, Gideon needs to know now.” 

I turn and bend down to open my bottom drawer, containing a white file and manila folder labeled ‘Evil Corp DDoS’. 

All the information we collected from the DDoS attack, all the information we collected about the fsociety hackers, all the information we would ever need to know about Evil Corp, sits between a white file and manila folder. 

If the fsociety hackers got a hold of this information, Evil Corp would be taken down in a few keystrokes. 

For now, this file is only accessible to the team that worked on the DDoS attack: me, Angela, Gideon, Lloyd, and Tyrell Wellick, Evil Corp’s Chief Technology Officer. 

Jack eyes the file in my hand and he sticks a hand out for it. I pull it closer to myself and shake my head at him. 

“Not yet.” 

“If I’m going to be on this team, I need access to that file.” 

“We will wait until Gideon grants you access. Until then, you can present your project.” 

He stands up quite abruptly and rolls his eyes. He’s a few inches taller than me, which makes me shrink back into myself. 

“Fine.” 

He walks away, and I let out a quick breath I didn’t know I was holding. 

I unzip my hoodie, fixing the collar of my shirt before I go into the conference room. 

Gideon sits at the head of the table, remote in hand for the PowerPoint. To his right sits Angela and her assistant, to his left Lloyd and his. Jack is already sitting next to Lloyd, so I take a seat near Angela’s assistant, leaving one chair of space in between. 

“Let’s get started.” 

Click. Gideon motions to the now changing screen, and a short agenda pops up. 

“We will be having our annual review of the Evil Corp DDoS attack next week, and I would like everyone to be prepared. Elliot, you will be bringing Jack up to speed before this conference and you will be training him on recoding the antivirus.” 

“Funny you mention that, sir-” 

“Jack, not now. Elliot, he’s been cleared as of this morning to look at the files, I expect a report on my desk by Friday. Now, if we take a look at the file...” 

Gideon begins to talk about the content of our files, which hasn’t changed since the investigation wrapped up some two years ago. Nothing has changed since. 

“You’re wrong.” 

I look up from my file. Gideon is still talking, Angela, Jack, and Lloyd are taking notes. 

“What’s changed is you started talking to your friend again, for reasons only God knows, and I’m here.” 

I look over to the chair I had left empty, now only to see Mr. Robot sitting in it, his eyes trained on me again. 

“You’re still talking about the same bullshit that everyone knows, discussing how my work, our work, would have effectively shut down Evil Corp. You’re starting to feel a tinge of regret, mostly because you could’ve avenged me and Angela’s mom, but instead you like playing your little computer puzzles and saving the asses of the biggest conglomerate in the world. You pretend that everything is okay when in reality it isn’t. Tell me, Elliot. How do you know nothing has changed since the investigation closed?” 

“Because we would’ve heard something by now.” 

“Elliot? Anything to add?” 

Shit, did they hear me? 

I look over to see Gideon’s worried eyes trained on me. Angela is tapping her pen on her paper, Jack eyeing me suspiciously. 

“No, nothing. Sorry.” 

Mr. Robot leans back in his chair defeatedly. 

“You’ll listen to me son. You’ll learn.” 

There is only so much I can do to help Mr. Robot without it getting in the way of work. My vigilante hacking is only by the suggestion of Mr. Robot, but at this point I need more information to go off of than just a few stupid words of distraction. If fsociety is planning anything else with Evil Corp, then the honeypot that was installed would distract them for a long enough timeframe for me to get in and retrace their steps, possibly leading me to an IP address. If I have an IP, then I can find where the source of their malware came from and where it was created. Most hackers to take car and have a VPN to hide their IP address, but not all hackers are smart. Most who just start out don’t have enough money for a VPN, making exploitation a valid and often fun option of getting the operation shut down. 

I have work to do. 

I pick up my file, only to realize it was just myself and Gideon left in the conference room. Even Mr. Robot left. 

“Elliot, we need to talk.” 

Of course, he wants to talk when I want to work. 

“I’m fine, Gideon. I just need to get back to work.” 

He gestures back at the seat. 

“Please, Elliot. Take a seat.” 

I sit down and put my file back down on the table. 

Most talks with Gideon are about me and my wellbeing, as if that was a tangible thing for me to discuss. 

Me? Of course, I’m fine. I have a routine; I have been following my routine, I have been sticking to my routine. I take my meds, I talk to a therapist, I self-medicate, I sleep, I eat, and I shower. A routine designed for limited adjustment, which leaves little room for error. 

“You seem distracted today, is everything okay?” 

I nod quickly, trying to get this conversation over so I can get back to my desk. 

“If there’s anything I can do for you, you know you can let me know, right?” 

I nod again, looking out the glass walls of the conference room. 

“Is this about Jack?” 

“Gideon, I’m fine. I see Krista later; you can call her.” 

Gideon put his hands up and shakes his head, I take the opportunity to grab my file and leave. 

~ 

“You look well, Elliot. The medication must be working then?” 

Krista’s office had changed since I last saw here. Not dramatically, but it’s noted. The chair she sits in is no longer red and velvet, it’s now a muted gray and linen, and she has her lumbar pillow behind her. The artwork has switched from scenes of forestry and mountains to spring flowers and super blooms on a hill. The couch for her patients, which I normally sit directly in the middle of, is still the same. 

“Elliot, I thought we agreed that you would be talking more in our sessions.” 

“It’s working.” 

She writes a few notes on her legal pad and looks back up to me. 

“You haven’t been seeing them lately then?” 

Them? 

Does she know about you? 

Shit. 

I don’t remember telling her about you. 

“Mr. Robot? Are you still seeing them, Elliot?” 

“No.” 

“Don’t lie to her, Elliot.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Don’t lie to her, Elliot.” 

“Yes.” 

Mr. Robot leans down to grab my shoulders, shaking me. 

“Don’t lie to her, Elliot! I’m right fucking here!” 

He turns to grab her and shake her. 

“Look at me!” 

“Elliot?” 

In an instant, he’s gone, and Krista is looking me up and down. 

“Answer the question, Elliot. Are you still using?” 

“No.” 

She sighs and sets her pen down. 

“Elliot, you know for this to work we need to have a level of trust. Whatever you say in here stays between us unless-” 

“I’m not going to kill myself, Krista.” 

“Can I talk to him?” 

She’s asked me if she could talk to Mr. Robot since the day I mentioned I could see him. Getting inside of his head so she could get inside of mine, she knew her way around me. I let her talk to him the day I deleted his dat file, and it was the only day I knew he hurt someone. 

“Elliot?” 

“No.” 

She leaned back in her chair and shook her head. 

“He is as much a part of you as you are a part of him. If I can’t talk to you, I need to talk to him.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” 

I get up to leave, pulling my backpack on over my shoulders. 

The streets are quiet, which it unusual at this time of day, but the lack of people definitely helps, especially when I get a subway car to myself on my ride home. 

I don’t like lying to Krista, but some days it feels easier to lie about Mr. Robot, about the morphine, and about you. 

You are here because I need you here. 

It’s been three years since we talked, and those have been three lonely years. 

I can admit to being lonely, because when I’m up at three in the morning, overwhelmed with the feeling of loneliness, Mr. Robot isn’t there to comfort. He’s not that kind of person. You used to help me. 

I needed to keep you away, to protect you from me. 

But here you are again, and now I have someone to talk to. 

The brakes squeal to a stop, I get off of the train. 

Climb up the stair to East Broadway, and walk the two blocks back to my apartment building. 

Sitting on the stoop to my building is Shayla Nico, my morphine dealer. We’ve been neighbors for three years, and she’s the one who gave me Qwerty. 

Qwerty, that little fish has been through a lot. He’s an old fish, but he’s still alive. 

Shayla sees me walking up, and she smiles at me. 

“Hey Elliot.” 

“Shayla.” 

She nods towards the door and she follows me into the building. 

“Shayla?” 

“Yes El?” 

“What are you doing?” 

Her creaking footsteps are right behind mine as I begin to climb the staircase to my apartment. 

“I’ve got your morphine and your suboxone.” 

A sigh of relief leaves my lips. 

“I’ve also got some weed if you’re up to smoke.” 

I pull the keys from my pocket and unlock my door. Shayla walks in first and makes herself comfortable on one end of my couch. She drops the plastic bag of little white pills on my coffee table and lights a joint. 

I kick my door shut behind me and grab my equipment. 

Shayla’s halfway through her joint when I finally breathe in my first line, and the familiar rush of euphoria hits me. 

A second line. 

A third line. 

A joint appears in my hand, Shayla’s lighting it for me, she puts her hand on my wrist and brings it to my lips. 

Bitter, warm smoke fills my lungs. 

Shayla’s on top of me. 

I breathe out. 

She’s kissing me, and it feels great. 

I pull away to take another hit, and her lips are on my neck. 

I breathe out and her hands unzip my hoodie. 

“Shayla?” 

“Hmm?” 

“What are you doing?” 

She takes the joint from my fingers and places it in my mouth, helping me finish it off. 

I breathe out and snuff it out on the coffee table. 

She pulls my hoodie off of me, and now her hands are too warm. 

My head is spinning and she lights up another joint, taking the first hit before handing it to me. 

Her lips are on my neck, and her skin is searing hot. 

I hold the joint in my lips and pull her shirt off. 

She takes the joint from me and takes a hit. 

Now I’m on my bed and she’s stripping down. 

“Shayla?” 

“Shut up, Elliot.” 

She climbs onto the bed, then on top of me. 

“Get these off.” 

“Okay.” 

She takes the joint from me. 

I pull my jeans down as much as I can. 

I don’t know what’s going on, but it feels too hot. 

She’s back on top of me and she lets out a puff of smoke. 

She pulls her legs up, taking me in her hand to stroke me hard. 

Her hands are hot on my skin, and I can’t help but buck up. 

She eases herself down, handing me the joint. 

I breathe out when she bottoms out. 

All I can feel is the heat, both of us slick with sweat. 

She begins to move, dragging her hips before pulling up and easing her way back down. 

My head continues to spin. 

Euphoria is an understatement. 

Morphine is leaving my mind blank, the weed is leaving my body limp, but Shayla and her beautiful body and slow movements are bringing feeling back to my limbs. 

My hands find their way to her hips, feeling her muscles pull taut as she pulls up and relax as she drops down. 

She looks down at me with a fire in her eyes I can’t describe. 

She picks up the pace, and I close my eyes. 

If something is touching me, it feels like it’s on fire. Shayla lets out a moan, dropping herself down harder on me, making the mattress groan as it gives. 

I can only keep my hands on her hips and hold on, my heart pounding in my head, leaving white dots of light behind my eyes. 

I can feel her breath catching in her throat, and she rolls her hips a few more times. 

She places her hands on my sides to hold herself up, her nails digging into my skin to leave marks. 

She lets out a cry and rolls her hips one more time. 

I let out a moan as the pleasure builds and releases at the same time, holding her steady on me. 

She lays down, at first resting her head on my chest, but she rolls off of me and on to her side, trying to catch her breath. 

My body aches and protests at me as I pull my comforter halfway up my body, my skin still overly hot and sensitive. 

A few moments pass, and darkness overcomes me. 

Don’t make decisions when you’re on morphine.


End file.
